


wear it well

by ElasticElla



Series: follower milestone ficlets [16]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, M/M, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 13:18:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14285760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: “Oh fuck you,” Ryan replies, rebooting his computer that apparently needs to update now.Shane winks, “I’m more of a three date guy, but play your cards right tonight and maybe baby.”





	wear it well

**Author's Note:**

  * For [doctorkaitlyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorkaitlyn/gifts).



The first time it happens, Ryan chalks it up to a mistake. He’s folding his laundry when he finds a plain black t-shirt, longer than any of his. It has to be Shane’s- he’s the only person that sleeps over with any regularity that might forget a shirt- and Ryan might sniff it to check. (Which is a silly idea, as it obviously now smells like his own laundry detergent.) 

Still, he’s feeling giddy as he places it aside, determined to wear it to work tomorrow. He’s been meaning to ask Shane out for a while, but then just wanting to date his cute coworker turned into falling in love with his best friend, and the latter is a far scarier thing to admit to. 

But the shirt. It would save him- a litmus test of sorts. Either Shane will be amused that Ryan wore his shirt or Ryan will never be able to meet Shane’s eyes again and transfer to Buzzfeed’s New York office and adopt enough dogs to make a pack. 

Ryan will know, that’s the point. 

.

Monday morning, Ryan’s at his desk early, jittery as he looks over some stuff to edit. The office is a little chilly, nearly empty, and Ryan’s tempted to put his sweatshirt back on. The cold does keep him awake though, a good thing since he didn’t stop for coffee this morning. 

Shane ends up being late, late enough that Ryan’s forgotten what he’s wearing until Shane’s looking at him with wide eyes. “I was wondering where that went.” 

“Oh! Sorry I can-”

Shane shakes his head with a grin, “Nah man, keep it. It looks better on you.” 

His cheeks burn, and dammit he isn’t a teenager anymore, shouldn’t be responding so strongly to a maybe joke anyways. 

“Kernelhead night?” 

“I have a thing,” Shane says, genuinely sounding remorseful. “Tomorrow?” 

“Sure.” 

And just like that, no cross-country move will be required. 

(Probably.)

.

Tuesday night when Shane leaves a blue v-neck tucked underneath the ghost plushie, Ryan isn’t as surprised. He _is_ amused that Shane didn’t even wear it over, obviously just brought it for him and that brings a wave of warmth whenever he thinks about it. Unfortunately something spilled on it, probably excess butter from the popcorn, and Ryan needs to wash it first. Which takes longer than he’d like to admit, even if it is the most motivated he’s ever been to do his laundry. 

Friday morning when he comes into work wearing it, Shane’s face just lights up. 

.

It’s definitely the weirdest flirtation Ryan’s ever engaged in. Not that Ryan should have expected anything more from them. Shane sometimes leaves him shirts, and after the first few, they’re actually Ryan’s size and he can’t imagine Shane squeezing into one- much less getting it off without ripping. (And isn’t that a fun thought that definitely isn’t appropriate for Jen’s breakfast meeting.) 

Still, the shirts now sort-of smell like Shane, and the idea that Shane’s adding them to his own laundry before they’re discovered in Ryan’s apartment is a heartwarming one. When he’s wearing the fifth shirt- yellow and gray stripes- Ryan decides he’s going to ask Shane out for real. No more of this movie night turned sleepover or stumbling home together after hitting the bar after work, nothing so ill-defined- a definitive date. 

Ryan’s so caught up in his thoughts’ momentum, he turns to Shane and says, “We’re going on a date tonight.” 

Shane looks taken aback for a moment, a startled laugh leaving his lips. “Okay.” 

“I mean, if you want to. It’s not like a requirement for our friendship or work or a video or-”

“I’m free at seven,” Shane mercifully interrupts him. 

“Cool,” Ryan says.

“So smooth Mr. Bergara,” Shane teases. “One might think you’ve never asked anyone out.” 

“Shut up Shane.” 

“Wha-how?” 

“Helen asked me out, so did Zack. Before then was just hookups so…” Ryan trails off, he hadn’t really noticed it until now- huh, weird. 

Shane’s shaking his head, “Pretty boy privilege.” 

“Oh fuck you,” Ryan replies, rebooting his computer that apparently needs to update now. 

Shane winks, “I’m more of a three date guy, but play your cards right tonight and maybe baby.”

Ryan laughs, has to laugh or he’ll be way too turned on to be in a public space, likes keeping his job thank you. (He’s honestly never been so glad to have Shane pulled away for a Violet vid, couldn’t focus while he was there.)

.

The dates end up being remarkably similar to how they usually hang out- movies, dinners, and popping over to Disney on the weekends. The shirts stop showing up in his apartment around the fourth date or so, and already having a dozen, Ryan doesn’t complain about the sudden stop. (Even if he _does_ miss the fun surprises while cleaning or neatening up.) 

He does ask Shane one evening, driving home from the art museum, exhausted and content. “What was with the shirts?”

Shane shrugs with a smile, “It’s a mystery. You like trying to solve those.” 

Ryan laughs, “Not really our usual fare, but okay.” 

“You’ll figure it out,” Shane says, not an ounce of doubt in his voice. 

Ryan’s eyes cut over, tempted to just pull over on the side of the road. (It would definitely end with new bruises and their first time on the side of a busy highway.) He lightens the mood instead, joking, “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” 

Shane takes the bait with a grin, “I dunno baby, I immortalized you as my most compelling character ever, Dr. Goondis.” 

Ryan sputters, nearly misses their exit, “I can’t- How _dare_ you, I will turn this car around-”

“And bring us back to admiring fine art?”

“I’ll show you fine art,” Ryan mumbles. 

“Wonderful! As long as it isn’t abstract- abstract art on an empty stomach,” Shane says, making a face at the end. 

“What does that even mean?” Ryan wheezes out, slapping the steering wheel. 

“Oh you don’t wanna know,” Shane says, all pseudo-serious dramatics as he gazes out into nothingness. And Ryan has to focus on the road, isn’t going to cause a car crash over the way the sunset is now out Shane’s window, a soft glow around his silhouette. 

.

Ryan knows he isn’t an incredible detective, but with how long it takes him to put the shirt theory together he doesn’t even feel like a subpar one. And maybe if all the shirts Shane gave him were solid colors, he wouldn’t have even picked up on it- but the striped one, and a few with words cement it. 

Shane’s been giving him shirts off of guys in missing persons cases. 

Ryan feels sick when he adds them up- there are at least five not even listed, and the first one- fuck. The first person’s shirt is the one Shane left accidentally, god knows how many more people he’s killed since then. Or before. Or disappeared- or maybe they just all wanted to run away? And Shane creepily kept the shirt they were last seen in for no real reason? And then gave them to _him_?

Ryan had ignored Shane’s busyness in the past, had figured he was just meeting up with non-work friends or some silly side hobby. With, fuck- 

Shane feels remote and familiar all at once, and Ryan doesn’t know what he’s going to do. 

He knows what he _should_ do. He should march down to the police station with every shirt Shane’s ever left him. There aren’t any bodies yet, and if there are, arresting Shane might lead to them. Might provide closure to families and friends and-

Ryan already knows he isn’t going to do it. Is just indulging in his own mind to feel better but not really. He finishes getting dressed, and pulls on a plain purple shirt that he knows he didn’t buy. 

Maybe he’s wrong. Plausible deniability right?

.

Things should be different now. Shane’s mouth, his _hands_ , should feel different. He should want to run away, shouldn’t still turn to him for comfort in haunted places.

A body shows up. The one from the yellow and gray shirt, and Ryan still invites Shane over for a movie night. (Shane always stops him before things get too heated, and Ryan hasn’t asked yet if he doesn’t like sex or if it’s related to the killing or something else. Putting it into words makes it real, and Ryan doesn’t know if he’s ready for that next step.)

.

Shane comes home with a spot of blood on his neck. It’s small enough that the average person would assume it was a shaving accident- and Shane had recently gone beardless- but Ryan knows better. 

He knows better and he still presses a kiss there, instead of ignoring it, bits of blood coming away on his lips. 

(Warm because of Shane, he reminds himself. It’s only warm because of his body heat, not because Shane just-)

It’s only a gesture, he made the decision many nights ago. 

.

Time passes, work making life fly by faster than he wants, and it’s only on their anniversary that Ryan realizes Shane hasn’t left him a new shirt in months. There’s a twisted bit of disappointment at that, that Shane isn’t sharing something so important with him anymore or maybe even-

Ryan can’t go there. Things are better now, they have to be. They can be a normal couple- they can be normal. 

(Normal is boring. He knows too much for it to hold any magnetism.) 

.

It happens because of a silly video, one of Sara’s, about homemade stickers. Shane has covered him with new stickers of the hot daga characters, and Ryan’s retaliation is to cover Shane in ghosts saying ‘I believe’. 

“Get these off me,” Ryan playfully demands once the camera stops. 

Shane does with a snicker, removing the characters carefully enough to keep them whole. Ryan keeps his eyes on Shane’s face, won’t be responsible for the public indecency if he watches those long fingers work on his chest. 

“Oh shit,” Shane mutters, as he removes the last one and Ryan looks down, an _eep_ escaping him at all the tiny holes. 

“You ruined my shirt!” 

“I think I gave you that shirt,” Shane says, squinting. “Yeah, I gave you that one.” 

“I want a new one,” Ryan demands, the implications hitting him after the words are out. 

“Really?” 

Ryan swallows, ears burning and nearly dizzy from the way his thoughts spin. “You owe me.” 

Shane’s knuckles brush against his cheek, “Well we can’t have that.” 

.

Shane doesn’t hide the replacement shirt in his apartment. He hands it to him in a bag instead, almost feeling like he’s being given a bag of lingerie with the tissue paper sticking out. 

Ryan laughs when he sees the picture on the bag- the quintessential big foot photo. 

“I’m gonna put this away, dinner’s in the oven.” 

Halfway to his room he hears Shane’s ‘sweet pizza!’, heading to his desk to open the bag. He’ll definitely be reusing the big foot bag for Shane one day, maybe with a thought bubble about them being related or the reliability of blurry photos. He tugs out the cream tissue paper, white and red cloth coming out with it. 

It’s red because it’s still damp. 

Ryan changes immediately, feels like he’s on autopilot, incapable of any other action. The bloody patches are cold against his skin, the light breeze from his open window far chillier now. Each damp patch clings to him, sends shivers down his spine. 

In the kitchen, Shane’s in the fridge, doesn’t hear him come in. 

Ryan wets his lips, “So uh, should I be reading into this one?” 

Shane turns around, scrambles to close the fridge and come closer when he sees him. “Yes- no, not like that. I- I just came over after.”

He feels intensely sure of himself in that moment, that no matter what Shane does, he’s still his dorky boyfriend. Ryan’s fingers toy with the hem, and he watches Shane’s eyes follow them. “That’s kind of fucked up baby.” 

Shane’s eyes yank up guiltily, “I’m sorry?” 

“C’mere,” Ryan says, and Shane goes around the kitchen counter to him. “It’s almost like you want to get caught,” Ryan adds on. 

His eyes are wide, uncertain, as though he only now realized what he gave Ryan. 

“Do you?” 

“No!” Shane blurts out quickly. “I thought you might…” he drifts off, scratching the back of his neck. 

Ryan laughs softly, “Just because a person is into researching serial killers doesn’t mean they want one in their bed.” 

Shane swallows, “Right, yeah, of course I’ll go-”

“Luckily for you,” Ryan interrupts, a hand on his chest, “my morals seem to have deserted me. In case the shirt didn’t spell that out for you big guy.” 

Shane looks torn between amused and relieved and exasperated, and rather than reply, he leans in to kiss Ryan. And Ryan knows everything is going to be alright.


End file.
